


Bedside Manner

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 18:18:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: There's an outbreak of sickness in the Mountain and dwarves are dropping like flies. Can the reader help them or will she succumb to the plague herself?





	1. The Outbreak

You sat along the council table trying to keep your head from sagging atop your neck; the king would be less than happy if you dozed at such a time. Yet, as you looked up to him, making sure he had not noticed your near falter, he seemed little more awake than yourself. The dark rings around his eyes were darker than usual and he frowned deeper than even his worst days.

A sneeze awoke you further and you looked across the table to the perpetrator who was wiping their nose with a miserable sniffle. Bofur’s nose was a bright red and his cheeks a matching scarlet, his pigtails hung heavily around his head. Oin sat beside him and sent him a disappointed look and you figured he had been just as concerned as you by the spreading ague. Undoubtedly, he had tried to prevent the latest victim of the flu from attending such a populous meeting but had seemingly failed. You sent your own frown across the table to the ailing dwarf, knowing that you were the one who would have to deal with an outbreak.

As Oin’s self-proclaimed assistant, you had become just as trusted as the old medic. Your background in healing rivaled his own and the two of you together had kept the Company going on the long trek to the Mountain. At first, the grey dwarf had seemed wary of your skills but after you had saved Nori from a snake bite, well, his tune had changed entirely.

Another sneeze came from Bofur and you cringed, knowing that he had already condemned half the room to the same fate. You had only just managed to get the Mountain halfway to functioning and here he was, infecting the royal council. To be honest, he did not even enjoy his seat at the table, always the one complaining loudly of being forced to attend. Yet, today, he had seen his duty as important; more important even than the health of the king and his advisers. Speaking of the king…

“Hey, Fili?” You whispered to the prince beside you, hiding the movement of your mouth behind your hand, “Do you think your uncle looks a little peaky?”

“Hmm,” He shot a brief look to Thorin before turning back, “Yes, I suppose he does.”

“I thought so,” You nodded as you lowered your head, trying to ignore the creak you could hear forming in Fili’s voice and the sallow colour spreading across his features.

A mysterious heat began to set in and you worried that merely speaking to the sick was contagious but found the source at the end of the table. As Thorin continued to babble on to the table, he sent you a look of reproach, having caught you once again talking during a meeting. It was a bad habit you had. It was not that you did not listen, it was only that you found yourself voicing your thoughts to whoever was around you.

You brought your hand back to your mouth as if to hold in your voice and looked at the table guiltily. You focused on truly hearing his words and those of the others as they voiced their sage advice. You wished you could be so helpful as them but you were not even sure why you had been included among the council. You were not incompetent, it was just that you felt less so than those with more apt experience. Though just as many of the dwarves were on the council by grace of having enlisted in the Company and braving the trek to Erebor.

“I believe that is all for today,” Thorin grumbled and you hid a cringe, hearing the ague in his timbre.

“My king,” Several along the table mumbled the courtesy and rose to bow in dismissal and you mimicked them aimlessly.

Thorin rose heavily from the table and around to your side as he passed the now chattering council, seeming as eager to be free of the meeting as any. You stayed by your chair as you waited for him to pass you, planning to sneak out without another misstep but he stopped before you. You bit your lip nervously, wondering if you had broke the last straw with the resilient king.

“So,” His eyes looked paler than usual, “What was so important that you need whisper so to my nephew?”

“Um,” You looked to Fili who avoided your eyes and ducked past his uncle’s back towards the door, “I was only saying that—Are you feeling alright?”

“Do not try to distract me,” He nudged his crown up as it sagged down his forehead, revealing the sheen of sweat forming there, “Answer me.”

“That is what I was talking about,” You assured him meekly, “You look rather…ill.”

“I am fine,” He replied gruffly, “I do not get sick.”

“But–” You stopped yourself as his eyes began to burn through their sickly glassiness, “No, I suppose you would know.”

“Perhaps you should worry about someone who truly needs it,” He gestured to Bofur behind you who was now halfway into a sneezing fit, “Not to mention the rest of your patients.”

He turned swiftly as he continued his path to the door and you looked to Bofur who was being herded out by Oin. Thorin was right, you already had more than enough to deal with. As it was, the council chamber was much emptier than usual. Dori, Balin, and Gloin were abed with the ague and many of those dwarves who had arrived at the Mountain after the battle were similarly stricken. Thus, your day was far from over and you were not likely to rest any time soon. The king should have had the grace to excuse you when such a contagion was afoot.

You dragged yourself out of the chamber at last, hooking your bag over your shoulder as you set off down the corridor. The heavy bag had not left your side in the last two days and it was not likely to do so anytime soon. As you turned the first corner, you heard the rattle of coughing and came upon Fili as he struggled to stifle his rasps.

“Oh, Fili,” You sighed as you put your hand on his back, feeling the clatter of his coughs against his ribcage, “I think it best we get you to bed.”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” He coughed again, “I don’t think I could stay upright for much longer.”

You slowly led him down the corridor, his pace slow and his coughing ragged. You tried to hide the anxiety rising within as you knew your workload would be doubled by nightfall. You finally reached his door and ushered him inside, feeling the cold sweat which was now seeping through his thick tunic. Had he been wearing his mail, you were sure it would have soaked that through as well.

“Come on,” You prodded him towards the bed and he collapsed onto it with another cough, his face falling into the pillows, “That’s it.”

You waited for him to roll over but he did nothing but breath raggedly into the pillow and you could not fathom how he was not suffocating. You brought your hands under his shoulder and struggled against his weight as you tried to turn him. He did nothing to help you as he coughed again and you could accept that he felt too horrid to do so. From what you had seen, once the sickness reached this point, it took over quickly.

“There,” You were nearly panting as you finally got him on his back, “Now, let me just get you something to help you sleep. It’s the only thing for it.”

“Thanks,” He exhaled frailly.

“Bah, do not worry about it,” You assured him as you dug into your bag, “Half the Mountain’s just as bad off…if not worse.”

* * *

“Please, not you too,” You pleaded with Oin as you found him slumped against the wall, though you knew he could not help it.

“Sorry, lass,” He croaked as he tried to straighten up, failing to do much but cause himself to cough violently, “I can keep going.”

“Nonsense, you old fool,” You pulled him up as best you could, he was much heavier than Fili, “Lay yourself down and we can hope that the sickness does not keep you for too long.”

“What are you going to do without me?” He let you balance him as you urged him forward, “You cannot care for the whole Mountain alone.”

“Not the whole Mountain,” You narrowed your eyes, recalling how Thorin had refused your advice and remained atop his throne, fighting to hold in the coughs you knew brewed within him, “Besides, I haven’t much choice.”

You managed to force his door open as you kept him upright and withheld a sigh of relief as you dumped him into his bed. His wife was already buried within the covers in her own suffering; only hours before you had checked in on her as her husband had insisted upon making the rounds. He smiled at you weakly and urged you away, assuring you that he was well enough to keep an eye on both of them.

You hurried out and to the next chamber where Oin’s brother languished and you were welcomed into the dim chamber with a collection of sickened groans. You tended to the ailing family huddled in front of their ever-burning the hearth; though they swayed between a state of freezing and sweating with fever. You offered the young Gimli a sweetened ginger confection, assuring him that it would help his stormy stomach and wished you could do more for the child.

It took most of the day for you to see to the rest of the Mountain and you were content to allow yourself a short nap before you began the second. You walked wearily along the corridors, your eyes threatening to close with each step and you forced yourself forward. Just a little nap, even twenty minutes, and you would be fine.

You decided to cut through the throne room instead of the winding corridors which led to your remote chamber, eager just to sit down. As you entered the darkened throne room however, you heard the same coughs you had from all your patients and you sighed loudly. You were not meant to sleep, it was not within your destiny to do so.

You looked to the large stone chair where Thorin still sat, though you suspected it was not by choice as he leaned heavily upon the arm. His head rest upon his arm as he bent over and his hair spilled in tangles to his lap, his crown upon the floor in front of him. He shook with another fit of rattles and you frowned with a mixture of pity and disappointment. The stubborn king could refuse to admit to being mortal, but it would do nothing to ward off the ague.

“Thorin,” You neared him and he pushed himself up straight with effort, falling back against the stone of the throne hard, “I know you loathe to hear it, but you are sick.”

“I know,” He admitted at last, though it was not as satisfying as you had expected it to be, “You needn’t say it.”

“Say what?” You climbed the steps and felt his fiery forehead, nearly pulling back as you touched his boiling flesh.

“That you told me so,” He croaked as his head lolled across the back of the throne.

“Mahal, Thorin,” You grimaced as you pulled away your hand, “Could you not have come to the realization in your bed?”

“Fetch Oin,” He commanded as he closed his eyes, “He can help.”

“No, he cannot,” You hitched your bag up as you sighed, “He has also fallen to the sickness.”

“Ugh,” Thorin groaned, opening his eyes, “There must be someone–”

“No one,” You shook your head with exasperation, “If dwarves were not so stubborn as to ignore nature…”

“Says a dwarf,” He narrowed his eyes and coughed once more.

“The only one who is not sick,” You replied, though the fact was not so sweet as it should have been, “Now, let us get you down.”

“You’ll not get me past the door,” He tried to wave away your hands, “Leave me be.”

“You cannot stay here,” You looked around the empty chamber, “It is much too drafty in here. Besides, you need sleep.”

“Perhaps, but it is impossible,” He rasped.

“Listen to me, Thorin, for once in your life,” You caught his eyes with your own, “I know you feel like a dead orc right now but you need to gather the last of your strength and you need to get up. I am going to help you but you need to do the same, alright?”

“But–” He began but paused as he saw the desperation in your face, “Alright.”

“Now, on three,” You put your hand under his elbow and readied yourself to pull him to his feet, “One, two, three.”

* * *

Thorin was just as heavy as you expected and the two of you had nearly fallen several times on the way to his chamber. Entering the royal bedroom would have been exciting on any other occasion but you could barely stand by the time you had pushed into the darkened space. You maneuvered Thorin onto his mattress as he coughed and groaned without restraint and felt through the dim for a candle.

You lit the hearth, much needed in the frigid chamber, and turned back to take in the grand room. It was more than twice the size of your own and the bed was canopied with rich silk. You would have been jealous but you knew that many a king had much and more. You pulled your thoughts from your own selfish whims and turned back to the dwarf suffering atop the bed.

“Come on,” You pulled him up to the pillows by his shoulders and slipped the heavy chain from around his shoulder, “This sickness has one cure…even for a king it is the same as any.  _Sleep_.”

You tugged off his thick boots before you pulled the covers over him, tucking them around his broad figure before you felt his head once more. He was even hotter and you pulled the blankets back down as he shivered and he tried to yank them back.

“Thorin, you’ve a fever,” You reached into your bag strapped across your torso, “And you need to sleep.”

“Cold,” He chattered with another cough.

“Shhh,” You brought a vile to his mouth and he clamped his lips shut, “Drink.”

He shook his head as he closed his eyes and you frowned.

“Thorin, you open your mouth right now or I will force it up your nose,” You threatened, forgetting that he was your king.

“Mmm,” His lips tightened before he finally let them open enough for you to pour in a few droplets, “Fine.”

“You’ll be thanking me later,” You assured him as you replaced the stopper atop the bottle, “But I would hope you sleep until then.”

“I am your king,” He said without opening his eyes, “You best remem–”

Snores overtook his last sentence and you let out another sigh, realizing that you were due for your next rounds. You could only hope that one of the many dwarves within the Mountain bettered soon or you would never close your eyes again.


	2. Epidemic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcome as always :)

You could not count the hours since you had last napped…or had it been days? Your head was pounding horribly and your vision swam with fuzziness. The only thought that kept you going was that of your patients; you knew they had it much worse than yourself, though you believed that less by the minute.

Oin had not made a timely recovery, in fact he had only worsened, and the same was true for most of the dwarves. The only one who had made any progress was Fili and you thanked Mahal for that; he was still weak but he made a pleasant enough nurse.

“This vial,” You handed your assistant the bottle, “Two drops.”

“Two drops,” He repeated as he turned dully and tended to Bofur coughing beneath his hat; the floppy eared accessory not leaving his head even in his darkest moments.

“You know, Bofur,” You yawned as you stepped up to to the ailing dwarf’s bedside, “Oin will be expecting an apology. You’ve gone and made the whole Mountain sick. Including him.”

“Don’t you pin this all on me, lass,” He groaned weakly.

“He told you–”

“Aye, I know what he told me,” He dropped his head back to the pillows heavily, “I know, I know. I should’ve listened to the old dwarf.”

“Yes, you should have,” You turned on your heel with another yawn and waved Fili along, “Now you think on the lesson you’ve learned while we tend to all those you’ve infected with your disease.”

“It’s not my fault, lass,” Bofur called behind you begrudgingly, “You stubborn little–”

The door cut off the rest of his resentful rant and you chuckled weakly at him, nearly choking on your laughter. Your throat seemed to tickle with the gesture and you were sure it was the exhaustion catching up to you. Nori was little better than Bofur and Bifur proved just as poorly; every dwarf was as sick as you had left them upon your last visit.

“Lastly,” You stopped outside Thorin’s door, “Once we’re done, we’ve about an hour to sleep and then back to work.”

“An hour?” It was Fili’s first shift and yet he seemed exhausted, “How long have you been going on so?”

“Oh, I’ve not had even an hour’s sleep in the last two days,” You answered dully as you knocked, “The only reason I can do so now is you.”

“Ugh,” Fili frowned as you pushed the door inward, “I guess I should not complain then.”

“Go ahead and complain,” You crossed to Thorin who slept atop his bed and you checked his chest for movement, “It is a miserable duty.”

“Miserable?” Thorin opened an eye as he echoed you.

“You’re awake,” You stated as you stirred around in your bag, “How are you feeling?”

“Miserable,” He repeated the word again and you could hear the truth of the answer in his voice.

“Is there anything we can get you?” You asked as you felt his slightly less warm forehead.

“We?” Thorin grumbled as he closed his eye.

“Fili is my new assistant,” You explained as you dipped a cloth in a basin of water and laid it across Thorin’s head, “The only one to recover so far. Well, he can stand and that is all I need.”

“And you?” He croaked, “You’ve not fallen to the illness yet?”

“I must be lucky,” You kept yourself from swaying under the sudden tidal of dizziness, “Fit as a fiddle.”

“Hmm,” He opened his eyes a moment and looked to you before closing them once more, “You look less than.”

“A mere lack of sleep,” You assured him as you set a cup of water on his bedside table, “Caring for stubborn dwarves.”

“Ah yes,” Thorin grumbled as he pulled his covers tight, “Now that you mention it, sleep sounds lovely.”

You narrowed your eyes as you took his meaning and enviously eyed his large mattress; it looked utterly inviting. Though at the moment, you would have been happy to sleep upon the floor if it meant you could stay still.

“Fili,” You turned back to your patient nurse, “We’ve earned ourselves a break.”

* * *

“Are you certain you are alright on your own?” You reluctantly handed the bundle to Fili, filled with a collection of your various vials and tools.

“I know what I’m doing now,” Fili assured you, “Besides, if we do separate rounds, we may be lucky enough to get two hours in today.”

“Two hours?” You repeated doubtfully, “I wish.”

“Or…” Fili began hesitantly, “I’ll take the full round and you can sleep until the next.”

“No, I couldn’t,” You argued sternly, “That would not be fair.”

“It would entirely so,” He assured you, “You need to sleep.”

“No, I am not having this argument again,” You put your hands on your hips, “You report back to me when you’ve finished.”

“Fine,” He said begrudgingly, “But…which one of us gets Thorin?”

You pursed your lips as you thought of your most difficult patient and withheld an annoyed grimace. The last time you had been there, he had seemed worse than before though he had insisted that he was getting better. You and Fili had nearly had thought to tie him to the bed until you realized as much as he was determined to rise, he could do little more than sit up and fall back in agony.

“I’ll take him, I guess,” You offered, “You can meet me there.”

“Thank Mahal,” He uttered without thinking, “Sorry, but even I can admit that my uncle’s a pain.”

“Oh, I know,” You rolled your eyes, “But he  _is_  king.”

Fili left you with an apologetic smile and you went about your own work, checking in on your patients who to your surprise were at last showing signs of improvement. Oin seemed a little less stuffy and Bofur’s nose was a lighter shade of red. If this was anything to go by, Thorin may not be so bad to deal with. As you approached the king’s chamber, you could but hope that he was.

As usual, he was your last patient and you were eager to be done with it. Perhaps Fili had been right and you could squeeze in an extra hour of sleep; not that you had gotten even one in the last days. You entered as per usual and found the king in much the same condition as before. You held back a frown as you realized his body may be just as stubborn as his head.

“Thorin,” You neared the bed as he coughed again and you heard the thickness of his breath, “Oh, dear.”

“Ach,” He choked back another cough, “I think I’m getting better.”

“You are not serious?” You shook your head as you pulled your bag from your shoulder and placed it upon the bedside table, “If anything, you sound worse.”

“No, I–” He was interrupted by another rasp and you were glad for it.

“I’ve got something for that,” You removed a vial from your bag, “It’ll help clear your lungs.”

“Sleep?” He asked dryly.

“No,” You kept from rolling your eyes at him, “Smell,” You held up the open container and he reluctantly inhaled the potent salve, “Can you feel it?”

“Hmmm,” He took another whiff and you pulled it away with a triumphant smile, his cough returning, “Though it does not last long.”

“I’ve not applied it yet,” You replied dryly, “It goes upon your chest, you—my king.”

“Oh,” He quirked his lips at you, “Well then, go on.”

He undid the neck of his tunic lazily and pulled it open enough for you to see the top of his chest. You swallowed without thinking as you looked to the salve in your hands.  _It was nothing,_  you assured yourself,  _Just routine medical procedure._  You dipped your fingers into the vial and dabbed a glob onto his chest, spreading it with your hand as you concentrated on the small task.

“There,” You removed your hand from his chest as he inhaled deeply, turning to rinse off the salve in the basin, “Any better?”

“Better,” He assured as he took another breath, “Thank you.”

“Hmmmm,” It was your turn to grumble as you eyed him suspiciously, “You’re not going to tell me how useless it is?”

“No, it seems to be working,” He brushed back his messy hair, “But if it should turn out to be so, I’ll surely let you know.”

“Mmm, of course,” You yawned as you replaced the vial in your bag, “I am sure that will be on my next visit.”

“Do you’ve more patients to see?” He asked.

“No…” You squinted at him, “Are you going mad from being locked up in here?”

“No,” His own eyes narrowed, “I am not so grumpy as you think.”

“No, you’re my last patient…for now,” You yawned again, hiding behind your hand, “Once Fili gets here, I may even get to sleep.”

“Why don’t you sit then?” He gestured to the patch of mattress beside him, “While you wait.”

“Um, alright,” You sat upon the edge of the bed, “Thank you.”

As you settled in, an awkward silence befell the chamber and you wished you had just left. You could have waited for Fili in the corridor. You rubbed your neck as you yawned again, staring at the wall as you tried to think of anything to talk about. Another yawn arose but this time it felt like a tickle and you found yourself coughing into your hand.

“Are you alright?” Thorin broke the silence at last, “You’re not getting sick?”

“No…” You hid your own discomfort, “I’m fine.”

“Oh, you are?” You could here the smile in his voice as you were sure that he knew as well as you that you were lying, “You do not look so well.”

“I’m tired,” You shifted, avoiding his gaze, “Nothing more.”

“[Y/N],” He replied knowingly, “I know you loathe to hear it, but–”

“Don’t,” You sent him a warning look and a knock kept you from treason, “That must be Fili.”

“It must be,” His mouth twitched as you stood, “Get some sleep…it is the only cure, you know.”

“Thorin,” You sighed, nearly coughing once more, “Take your own advice. Please.”

You grabbed your bag and turned, nearly sprinting to the door and into the corridor. You did not want to be as stubborn as the rest of your kind but it seemed a natural urge. Furthermore, you would not let Thorin get the best of you in this. Perhaps you should not have been so boastful when he had fallen to the ague…but you were not sick.

* * *

 _No, you were definitely sick._  The sheen of sweat never stopped rising on your forehead and your vision blurred with every move. Yet, there was too much work to be done. You could keep going all you needed was to take a deep breath and hold it all in.

You stumbled down the corridor, once again thanking the fates that Fili had made a speedy recovery. He was much more helpful when he did not have his brother at his side, though you would not go so far as to wish the sickness to remain upon Kili. 

You could barely keep count of who you had seen and who you had not as you pushed into Dwalin’s room. Despite his gruff demeanour, he was one of your better patients. No longer a great grizzly, he had mellowed into a teddy bear under the ague.

“How are you doing in here?” You tried to sound as chipper as you could, “Oh, you look much better.”

“Hmmp,” Dwalin growled with disdain, knowing you only put on such a pleasant front to annoy him, “I cannot say the same for you. You look about to fall over.”

“Who? Me?” You faked a smile, “I am absolutely fine.”

You leaned over him and listened to his chest, his lungs no longer raspy with the cough, though there remained a sniffle in his breath. You straightened up and rubbed his beard teasingly.

“Much better,” He slapped away your hand with a grunt, “Right then, I should be off. Now, don’t think you’re clear of bed rest. One more night. To be safe.”

“Go on and worry about yourself, girl,” He grumbled as he leaned back against his pillows, “Your smile don’t fool me. Never has.”

“Never?” You turned back as you reached the door, “What about your ax?”

“Fool me once,” He rumbled gruffly, but you could hear the lightness in his tone, “Never again.”

“Remember, Dwalin,” You pulled the door open, “You stay there until tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” The grumble was all you got in farewell and you exhaled, holding back another cough as you entered the empty corridor.

Your next patient was Balin and the old dwarf was doing much better than before, though he still had a ways to go. Eight more chambers and your head was spinning, though you were close to the end. Your legs felt tingly the further you walked and you hoped that Thorin was easier to attend to this day.

You reached his chamber door and kept yourself from stumbling once more with a hand against the cold stone. You braced yourself as the coughs overtook you and you choked them back as best as you could. Your bag slipped from your shoulder as you bent in pain, the rasps forcing their way through your dry throat. Your hand slid from the wall as your knees buckled and you slumped onto the stone floor, you vision fading to black.


	3. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments but just reading is nice too. Thank you :)

Your head felt like it was filled with rocks and your eyes as sharp as glass. You were sure if you opened them, your eyelids would tear and you would weep tears of blood. Your throat was on fire and your lungs heavy with phlegm. A cough came to you suddenly and you wheezed painfully through your hoarse throat, sure that you would not be able to take a breath in.

You tensed your body as you realized you were not where you had been before the world had gone dark. At least, you did not think so; stone floors were rarely so cushy or warm. You moved your arm slowly as you brushed your hand across the surface and felt the soft cushion. It must have been a mattress; surely not yours though, yours was much lumpier.

Your hand was stopped by a warm, solid form beside you, less than an arm’s length away as you had figured out. You rescinded your hand abruptly as you heard—and felt—a cough, the heat of the figure still upon your palm. You finally forced open your burdensome eyelids and slowly let your head fall to the side, feeling the lush pillow below as you did. You would have leapt out of the bed if you had the strength within you, but all you could do was gape at the dwarf beside you.

“Wha–” Your throat scratched painfully, “What happened?”

“Well…” He sounded much better than you, even if he still had a bit of a cough, “I recall you did not listen to me and went rushing around. Sick as a dog.”

“Yes, yes, I know, you must be rather–” You coughed again, trying not to choke before continuing, “–happy that you were right. But I meant…how did I get here?”

“Oh yes, a fascinating story,” He smiled, a very uncommon gesture from him, “I was in here, awaiting your usual visit, so you could tell me I was still sick…maybe ply another of your fanciful tinctures.”

“Get on with it,” You grumbled as your head pounded.

“Well, I heard a clatter in the corridor, I figured it was nothing but I had to check,” He explained with an arrogant grin, “And there you were, sprawled across the floor, breathing heavier than a spent horse. I dragged you in here…though it was not so easy.”

“Oh,” You frowned as you cringed, “Thank you, I guess.”

“Yes, well, I figured you could use some rest,” He turned back to look at the canopy above, “Not that I could have woken you.”

“Well, I suppose when Fili gets here, I can be on my way,” You tried to push yourself up but fell back as your arms wobbled weakly, “Though I’ll have to wait for his help.”

“On your way where?” Thorin asked dryly, “You’re in no state to be tending to the rest.”

“I know,” You coughed with another wheeze, “To my own bed, is where.”

“Hmmm,” He sounded as if you had told him you were going to Mirkwood, “You do not have to.”

“I would be kind enough to let you have your bed to yourself,” You felt your throat tickle again and a fit of coughs came upon you, more violent than the previous and you had to roll onto your side to keep yourself from choking on your tongue, “And to save you from listening to that.”

Another fit of shakes came upon you and you were suddenly freezing though the covers were still around your shoulders. You curled up below them as you gripped your tightening stomach, still on your side as you began to shiver without restraint. You felt a warm weight up your back, calming the next bout of coughs, and realized it was Thorin’s hand. It was a comforting gesture, though you supposed he felt he owed you for your own care. But it was in only your nature to do so.

“Relax,” He pulled you onto your back by your shoulder as your breathing steadied, “A skilled medic once told me the best cure was sleep.”

“I do not know if I can,” You groaned as your teeth chattered and Thorin felt your head, much the same as you had done days before, “So cold.”

“You’ve a fever,” He stated though you were well aware of the fact, “Which vial is it?”

He rolled to the end of the bed with a grunt of his own and reached for the heavy bag you carried with you everywhere. He opened the flap as he tossed it on the bed between the two of you, falling beside it with a cough of his own.

“How do you carry that around?” He grumbled.

“I make do,” You dug blindly through the depths and clutched the familiar vial, “Here it is.”

You swigged the bitter tincture without pause and held it out to Thorin, “You need any?”

“No,” He narrowed his eyes, “I am fine without.”

“Yes, so it seems,” You were rather envious of him, his cough was not so hoarse as your own and his skin was losing its sallow hue, “Are you sure if it’s alright? You can have Fili move me if I sleep.”

“Stop worrying so much,” Thorin dropped your bag back to the floor, pulling the blankets back over himself, “Sleep.”

“But I–” Your words turned to snores and you were plunged into the deep sleep induced by the bitter tincture.

* * *

You woke up warmer than you had felt in a long time; your head nestled on something firm but comfortable and your arm across— _wait, what were you hugging?_ Your eyes snapped open and you realized that your pillow had not magically turned into the perfect heated headrest. In your deep sleep, you had somehow managed to wrap yourself around Thorin, though he was amazingly warm. Your head was upon his shoulder and your arm draped across his torso and your leg around his.

“Oh no,” You rolled away from him back to your own side, “No–”

You looked over and found his eyes watching you with amusement, _why couldn’t he have been sleeping?_

“Sorry,” You buried your head under the cover, hiding the blush rising in your cheeks and another shiver arose within you, “I didn’t mean to do that, I was–”

“Sleeping,” He finished, “That is fine. You’re hot as a furnace, you know. That fever’s not going anywhere.”

“What do you know?” You pushed your nose out from under the blanket, chattering once more, “Ma-h-al,” You could not keep from shaking, “You l-l-look better.”

“I feel better,” He smiled proudly, “Likely much better than you.”

“Ugh,” You shivered again, closing your eyes against the chill, “I hate being sick.”

“Come here,” His arm snaked under you and you were suddenly pulled back against him, “I cannot stand to have you shaking the whole bed.”

“Thorin,” You tried to escape his grasp but he held you tight, “Perhaps it is time I go back to my own. I am sure Fili–”

“Fili is busy, tending to everyone else,” Thorin smiled up at the canopy, his arm still firm around you, “Most of whom I hear are getting better.”

“That’s good then,” You ceded, “Then when Oin—”

“No one’s coming, [Y/N],” Thorin chuckled, “I told them not to bother. As you can see, I am on my way back to health.”

“But what about me?” You caught a cough in your hand, “I am sick.”

“I know,” He finally looked at you and you stared up at him under heavy eyelids, “Which is why I am here. I should have listened to you before…but now you should listen to me.”

“I am, alright?” You could not help but sink into his warmth as the shivers faded, “I could do so in my own bed though.”

“Oh,” He lowered his brow, “What is the matter then? I know we’ve had our rows, but you don’t trust me?”

“No, I trust you, of course I do,” As surly as he could be, he had saved your life many a time on the quest, “But I—I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Shh,” He shook his head, “Nonsense.”

“Thorin,” You knitted your brow as you lifted your head slightly to get a better look at him, “Am I dying?”

“What?” He chuckled at you incredulously, “No. Why?”

“Because, well,” You did not want to say it and ruin it but you had to, “You’re being so nice.”

“I am nice,” He assured you though his face looked less than friendly, “When have I ever not been?”

“Well, when you reproach me for speaking in meetings,” You began, looking up in thought, “I know I should not but I truly do not mean to. And then there was that time you threw that acorn and then you told me that you had seen blind mules with more grace than me. Oh and–”

“I get it,” He frowned as he halted your endless collection of memories, “I suppose you’re right, I’ve not been the kindest.”

“No, you haven’t,” You could not help but grin despite another cough.

“And that is why,” He nodded to your smirk, “You can be rather arrogant.”

“Arrogant?” You echoed with offense, “Coming from you?”

“Yes, which means you must be unbearably so,” He replied with his own grin.

“And there you have it,” You let your head fall back upon his shoulder, “Another endearing comment.”

“Hmm,” You felt his breath rustle your hair as he sighed, “Just go to sleep, [Y/N]…or you’ll never get better.”

* * *

You awoke once more in the glorious warmth of the king’s bed and you actually felt like you were getting better. The last time you had opened your eyes, your head had nearly shattered like glass and you had let yourself fall back into your sickened slumber. You were nearly disappointed to find yourself alone beneath the covers but had to remind yourself that Thorin merely allowing you to remain in his chamber was more than kind. Especially for one such as himself.

You had been horribly jealous of Thorin as he had seemed a little healthier every time you returned to consciousness and you had only grown worse. You figured he had made a full recovery now and was back to his usual work as regent. You also garnered that it was near time you made your return to your own chamber to wait out the last of the ague.

You rolled grumbling to the edge of the bed, your tunic smelled of sweat and your hair hung in knots around your face. You knew not how long you had been languishing in Thorin’s bed but it was well past due that you leave. You would owe him quite the thanks for being so kind to you; as per usual, you found yourself beholden to the dwarven king. You had still been trying to atone for all the times he had saved your hide upon the journey.

You stood on your weakened legs and wobbled over to where your boots had been thrown and your bag rested beside them. You fell onto your bottom upon the floor, pulling on the hide boots as you fought with the laces. Your hands were clumsier from disuse and your battle seemed endless as you cursed at the pesky ties. The door opened suddenly and you nearly exclaimed in surprise as Thorin swept into the room, his kingly attire back in place.

“Oh,” You widened your eyes as you knotted the last lace, “Hello.”

“What are you doing?” He crossed the room and stood over you, “You should be abed.”

“No, if I should, I would not have been able to leave it,” You argued as you began to lace your next boot, “I am feeling so much better now.”

“Hmm,” He narrowed his eyes before reaching his hand out to you, “ I suppose you are right.”

“In any other circumstance, I would relish those words,” You let him pull you to your feet, “I figured you would be thankful to have your chamber back to yourself, as well. Besides, we both have much work to catch up on.”

“I do,” He lifted your bag from the floor and held it out, a reluctant frown upon his face, “You do not. The Mountain has made a near full recovery. With you back on your feet, I would say it is back in order.”

“Well…that’s good then,” You tried to smile as you hooked the bag over your shoulder, “Is there council today?”

“There was,” He answered, looking down his nose as he always did, “I am afraid you only just missed it.”

“Tomorrow then,” You assured him as you stepped past him awkwardly, “I will try not to talk so much this time.”

“See that you do,” He muttered without turning around, keeping his back to you as you neared the door, “We’ve enough distractions without your sly comments.”

“Not a word, Thorin,” You promised with a hidden grimace, he had certainly made a full recovery, “I swear.”


	4. Back to Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback and comments welcome.

You wiped your runny nose with your handkerchief, the last of the ague dribbling into the cloth. You were relieved to be back on your feet and you knew that this would be the tail end of the sickness. You could have smiled at the small conciliation of being out of bed at last, even if you did have to sit through another tiresome council meeting. Honestly, it would be refreshing after so long away from the table of dwarven advisers.

You neared the council chamber, the door closed and wondered if you had gotten the wrong time. You paused outside as you listened for voices on the other side, barely catching the muffled chatter from within. You braced yourself, sure that you were late for the meeting, and reluctant to face the room of disproving faces as you barged in tardy.

You slowly pushed inside, trying to remain unnoticed but found yourself the centre of everyone’s attention as you entered. It was as if they had been waiting for you, though they seemed a lot more welcoming than you had expected. In fact, many of them were smiling, or as close as they ever came to doing so. Fili nearly frightened you as he approached you without a sound and you looked around nervously.

“[Y/N],” He greeted cheerily, “You look better.”

“Umm,” You eyed the table of dwarves anxiously, “Thank you…what’s going on?”

“Surprise!” Kili sounded like a child as he exclaimed.

“Huh?” You furrowed your brows, even more confused.

“The lot of us got together, while you were…indisposed,” Fili explained as he turned back to the table and retrieved an intricately carved box, “And we got you a gift. As a thank you.”

“Thank you?” You eyed the present precariously, “But you should not have. I—I didn’t do anything but succumb to the very sickness I failed to curtail.”

“What are you talking about, lass?” Oin voiced from his seat, “None of us would be here if it weren’t for you. We’d still be in our beds as sick as dogs.”

“I, uh,” You exhaled with an awkward smile, “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Go on and open it, you fool,” Bofur urged with a smile.

“That’s what I expected,” You chuckled softly at the quip as you looked to the box, slowly unhooking the clasp, “Not this.”

“Aye, we should have gotten you something earlier,” Dwalin boomed and you were half-convinced you were delirious with sickness, “Half of us would not have made it to the Mountain without your silly potions.”

“Hmm,” You shook your head, “Thank you, Dwalin. As per usual, you are ever the gentleman.”

You opened the lid slowly to reveal a collection of surgeon’s tools, gauze, and other medical accessories; needles, thread, vials. You could not believe what you were seeing and you commanded yourself not to cry. You had never expected so much from the Company of dwarves.

“Wow, you–” You let the lid fall closed, “You did not have to do this.”

“Nonsense,” Thorin announced from the head of the table, “The entire Mountain owes you much and more. Now…enough with the arguments, let us get on with council.”

“Right,” You lugged the chest over to your seat and Fili followed you, “That is more what I am used to.”

Thorin shot you a sharp look at the dry comment and you once again clasped your lips shut. Things were certainly returning to their normal state.

* * *

You were rather excited about your new medical kit and wasted no time in rushing from the council chambers to go through it. Well, that and you were avoiding another berating from Thorin as you had let yourself whisper to Fili once more in the meeting. You could not even recall what you had said or why you had thought it necessary, but as per usual, Thorin had caught your misstep.

You dumped your bag of its contents as you went through your old kit and sorted what was still good and what could be replaced. You opened the chest on the floor beside the mess of medical gear and began your process of elimination. You had several piles of indecision as you sat among the collection, delaying your final round up as you admired your new belongings.

A knock distracted you from your inventory and you sighed as you slowly rose from your seat amid the piles. You stood carefully and stepped over the scattering of tools and the like, realizing that you had made quite the mess of your small chamber. Finally clear of the clutter, you neared the door and pulled it open slightly, trying to hide the medley littered upon the floor.

“Thorin?” You greeted with confusion; he must have been here to give you that lecture, “What are you—What are those?”

“Flowers,” He held up the rainbow of plants in his hand, “You have seen flowers before?”

“Of course I have,” You frowned, “But why do you have them?”

“They are for you,” He shifted on his feet, “As a thank you for everything.”

“Ha,” You scoffed, “If anything, I should be thanking you. Besides, I’ve already gotten more than I deserve.”

“Oh, well…” He looked down before returning his eyes to you, “Can I come in?”

“Uh, certainly,” You could not deny him entrance after you had invaded his space for so long, “It is a bit of a mess.”

“That’s–” He began but stopped himself mid-sentence as he entered the chamber, “Oh, you were not lying.”

“I am trying to sort everything,” You explained, trying to figure out when he would begin his onslaught, “What to keep and the like.”

“Well, these should brighten up the place,” He held out the flowers and you took them, withholding an uncertain furrow.

“Surely,” You looked around your rather cramped and dim chamber, “It is not so bad, though.”

“Can I help with anything?” He knelt over your piles of gear, “It will take you forever on your own.”

“If you like,” You set the flowers down and turned back to him, weaving back to your place among the tools, “You don’t have to though. I am sure you have much to do.”

“I wouldn’t have come if I did,” He assured as he fell back upon his bottom and began to sift through the piles, “Tell me what goes and what stays.”

* * *

“Wait,” You leaned behind your hand as you whispered to Kili along the table, “Does he mean today or tomorrow?”

“[Y/N],” Thorin was just as vigilant as ever, this time catching you in the act, “Is there something you need to say?”

“N-no,” You looked around with a cringe, “Sorry…”

“Mmm,” Thorin thinned his lips before he continued, “As I was saying…”

“How does he do that?” You mumbled to Kili and Thorin was stopped short once more.

“Because I have ears,” Thorin answered and you covered your face with your hands, “Now, please.”

“Not another word,” You closed your mouth tightly, nodding for him to continue.

He sent one last reproachful look your way, though it was awfully close to a smirk and you looked to the table with shame. If only you could think before you spoke. Yet it seemed that there was little between the words and your lips. You vowed not to look up or open your mouth for the rest of the meeting.

You kept the promise you made to yourself and Thorin, struggling to keep in all the questions and whims which crossed your mind. It was much easier for you when you were up and about, treating patients and dealing with the hands on aspects of your duty. Sitting in council was so monotonous, but when you went out to deal with the inhabitants of the Mountain you were not so helpless.

“Finally,” You muttered as the king dismissed the table and you rose from your chair with a sigh, trying to hide behind Kili as you did, “Hurry up,” You prodded as you tried to sneak out behind him before you could meet with the comeuppance of your loose words.

“[Y/N],” Thorin’s voice came from the other side of Kili and you would have ducked down lower if you knew he would not eventually seek you out.

“Great,” You let the grumble slip out a little too loudly, “I mean, right here.”

“Mmm,” He narrowed his eyes as he crossed his arm, “We need to have a little talk.”

“Yes, I suspected as much,” You stepped aside as the rest of the dwarves streamed out of the room, leaving you alone with the king, “I truly am sorry, Thorin.”

“I would think that if you were truly sorry, you would have the grace to still your mouth,” He reproached lightly, “Please, in the future, try to do so.”

“Of course, my king,” You looked to your feet glumly, “I can try.”

“Come on, then,” He motioned toward the door, “I’ve another surprise for you.”

“What?” Ever since the king had turned up with his bunch of flowers, he had continued on in his endless thanks and you felt terrible for having nothing in return, “Why? I mean, I thought you were mad at me.”

“Annoyed,” He corrected lightly, “And it is nothing. The forge is finally in operating condition.”

“Oh,” You could not help a grin, “At last.”

“I thought you would like to be the first to see it,” He explained as he led you down the corridor, “Something to keep you busy. Perhaps, it will help your discipline…or lack thereof”

“Ah,” You frowned slightly, “Yes, perhaps.”

You finally reached the forge, excited to see it in working order as you followed Thorin into the blazing chamber. The fires burned brightly and the room was thick with the heat, the sweat rising on your forehead nearly immediately. You smiled to yourself as you looked around. It had been a very long time since you had last forged and you had forgotten how much you missed it.

“Oh Mahal,” You looked up in wonder, “This is amazing.”

“Let me show where you’ll be working,” He gestured you forward, leading you past anvils until he stopped at a station in the corner, “I recall you told me you like to work undisturbed. I figured here would be the best place to go unbothered.”

“You remember that?” You looked to him, you had never thought he truly heard a single word you said, merely the noise of it.

“Yes, for I never would have guessed that you did anything without needing an ear to chatter to,” Thorin smirked and you felt like growling at him.

“Well, thank you,” You stepped closer as you examined the anvil and set of tools beside it, “Though, I do not know how much time I will have to use it.”

“You will find time,” He assured you, “As will I. King or not, I miss the simplicity of it.”

“Ooh,” You uttered without thinking, “I would love to see your work.”

“Truly?” He crooked his brow disbelievingly.

“Sure,” You replied lightly, “You are probably much better than I. I am mediocre at best.”

“Well, then you should only get better now,” He wiped the sweat from his head, “Time and effort.”

“I can try,” You grinned at the anvil one last time before turning back to him, “But for now, I’ve got to go see little Gimli. I promised him some more candy.”

“Candy?” He repeated with an amused look, “I like candy.”

“Hmmm,” You nearly chuckled at his odd demeanour, he rarely kidded with you, “If you’d like to come along, perhaps I could spare a piece or two.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” He said as he fell into step beside you, “Though one I could not pass up.”

* * *

You clanged away at the uneven blade, cursing yourself for your shoddy work. You could fix it easily but the time to do so was intimidating. Your tunic hung across your work table as you bent over your anvil hammering, your undershirt soaked in sweat and the rather painful burn upon your shoulder seared as perspiration dripped down your arms.

You were getting better but you had to find the time to do so between your regular duties as royal adviser and resident medic. Thus, here you were, working away in the forge near to nightfall as you beat the metal into the proper shape. Many of the other dwarves had left by now and the solitude was a relief.

The day’s council had been less than pleasant as it had lasted longer than most and you had struggled to keep your thoughts in your head. Even more so as you noticed how Thorin kept an even closer eye on you than ever. It was as if he was setting you up to fail and you knew sooner or later, you would slip once more and he would dawn his boastful grimace which as of late had turned to an arrogant smirk.

You inhaled deeply as you wiped away the sweat dripping towards your eyes and set down your hammer, content with your work for the night. You could not stay here all night; there was much to be done tomorrow. You were suppose to go hunting with the Durins. Then you were to look after Gimli for a time as Gloin attended to his own duties and his wife would be busy with her own errands. On top of that, there was that paperwork you had been avoiding for too long and….It was all too much.

You turned with a sigh and spotted a shiny silver shape atop your tunic, glittering under the light of the forge.  _Another one._  The brooch was perfectly forged and the metal was flawless, the great amethyst stone within it was quite impressively cut as well. You picked up the pin and examined it closer and let out another breath. Every night this week you had found such gifts left behind and you wondered who was leaving them. If you knew, you could return them and quash their intentions before they ran too far.

“Do you like it?” Thorin’s voice nearly made you jump as he appeared on the other side of your table.

“Wha—Uh, yes, it’s nice,” You lowered the brooch, “Do you—is this?”

“You said you wanted to see my work,” He explained, “That is my latest creation.”

“Oh, and the others?” You raised a brow, “Those were you as well?”

“Yes,” He stated as if it should be obvious, “So, do you? Like them, that is.”

“Oh yes, they are lovely,” You pulled your bag over and pulled out the collection of jewelry, “Here.”

“No,” He pushed the bobbles back across the table, “They are yours.”

“Mine?” You eyed them suspiciously, “I, uh, I cannot accept them. Please.”

“You cannot?” His face fell and you were astounded by his frown, “Oh.”

“It is too much,” You explained, “So much work. You have done more than enough. The flowers and everything. You have more than shown your gratitude.”

“Gratitude?” He repeated as he tilted his head, “Are you daft?”

“What?” You were taken aback by the half-insult, “What do you mean?”

“Hmm,” He sighed as he rolled his eyes, “These are not thanks, they are…” He bit his lip before continuing hesitantly, “These are courting gifts.”

“Courting gifts?” You raised your brows in realization, feeling like even more of a fool, “Oh…Ohh…Ohhhh,” All you could do was make the confused sounds as you struggled for proper words.

“Oh?” He echoed, grimacing with anxiety, “Is that all?”

“Oh, uh, sorry, Thorin,” You suddenly felt very shaky and even more sweaty if that was possible, “I, uh, oh.”

“You do not have to say anything,” He said quietly and you barely heard the words, “It is alright if–”

“I am trying to say something but–” You wiped away the new sheen of sweat upon your forehead, “Well, you did tell me to use more caution with my words.”

“For once, I would love it if you could say what was on your mind,” He replied, though he sounded more nervous than annoyed.

“I love them,” You ran your finger along the amethyst brooch,smirking at the anxious king,“So, for the sake of such fine jewelry, I guess I could consider it.”

“Are you teasing me?” He narrowed his eyes as he put his hands on the table between the two of you and leaned forward, “Because I am still your king.”

“Hmm,” You brought the brooch up between your faces as you leaned towards him and eyed the shiny pin, “Well then, I suppose this is worth more than a mere thought then.”

“[Y/N],” Thorin’s hand went around your own as he lowered it back to the table, “I am serious. I haven’t the patience for your games.”

“But you have all this time to make me such extraordinary gifts,” You let yourself grin even wider, “So, I think perhaps you could wai–”

He pulled you forward gruffly as his lips quieted the rest of your smart remark and he kissed you, if only to keep you from speaking further. You let him do so as you released the brooch from your fingers and leaned further over the table. Thorin’s own hand ran up your arm and shoulder, burying itself in your sweat-dampened hair as he held you in place. He finally released you and straightened up with another of his challenging looks.

“I am done waiting,” He let himself smile triumphantly, “So?”

“Well…” You lilted playfully and he leaned closer once more, his nose nearly touching yours as his eyes burned, “How could I say no?”

Thorin shook his head with a smile at your dry acceptance and he leaned in once more for another kiss. This one more tender as his hand rested atop yours on the table and at last, there were no more words flying around your head. Instead, there was only his lips and the heat of the forge, though you could not be sure that it was not his own warmth making you sweat so fervently.


End file.
